


The Eli Pluribus Monster Fuckability Index

by Sectionladvivi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Dragons, Explicit Consent, Halloween, Horror, Humor, M/M, Monsters, Naga, Other, Oviposition, References to Knotting, Relationship Advice, Spiders, Vampire Discourse, Vampires Are Not Monsters, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 11,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sectionladvivi/pseuds/Sectionladvivi
Summary: A modern man's guide to romancing the cursed, the carnivorous, and more.Also - a Halloween countdown! A monster a day starting on September 1st.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 79





	1. the walking dog

The walking dog was first described in 1776, by one 'Eusebius Owen', a violin teacher traveling in the low country of South Carolina. Ol' Eusebius was by all accounts a poor violinist, but a keen observer, and dutiful journal-keeper. [1]

The walking dog technically falls into the phylogeny of lesser werewolves, but the appearance is dramatically different.

Ol' Eusebius described it as:

_'A tall, narrow canine, which walks on hind legs but is impossible to mistake for a man. It wanders the rice plantations under a partial moon, as narrow as a birch. It does not howl like a wolf, nor speak like a man, but instead whimpers and cries, like a child searching for a mother.'_

What Ol' Eusebius did not know was that the walking dog does not search for a mother. No, a walking dog originates from misshapen litters (whelped under a new moon) and quickly leaves the proverbial nest. They grow quickly (an adult w. dog may only be twelve years old by our count, but mentally and physically mature for its species) and as soon as they are grown, seek out a mate.

This is the source of the tragedy of the walking dog.

Truly they are ghoulish things... I have met several, and they were all kind-hearted, humanoid enough to work as librarians or lighthouse keepers, but all too aware of their nature and their appearance. They preferred to live a secluded existence, in order to protect themselves and others from the odd circumstances of their character. [2]

A walking dog is, at its heart, a romantic.

A walking dog falls in love only once. It's up for debate whether they are explicitly monogamous, or if they would be capable of forming a connection again if they survived their mate. As a rule, they do not.

The low survival rate is probably due to the fact that they only take human mates. The reason behind this is another area that probably deserves more research.

A walking dog in love is a vicious and irrational thing. They are sloppily besotted with their mate - and truly they take 'mates', not lovers. It's generally not an optional arrangement on either end. The walking dog falls in love [3], and their shy, academic nature devolves into a cataclysm of blood, lust, and murderous devotion. The mate is taken, and they are kept.

Often the walking dog dens at this point in time. I read of one case where a w. dog den was discovered in the basement of an abandoned school, and another in a deep German forest. One fascinating case involved a den in an apartment building, where the walking dog actually managed to continue paying rent for several months!

The walking dog copulates _prolifically_. Generally the mate survives this (except in unfortunate cases where the size difference, or rigor of the w. dog, overcame human capacity), but as you can imagine, the experience is a painful terror.

Doubly tragic in this circumstance is that the walking dog loses their mind almost entirely. They become, as the literature calls it, 'addled in love'. It's possible that a walking dog could make for a tender lover, but passion cleans the slate of their tenuous humanity.

The walking dog almost never kills their mate directly.

Death comes either due to starvation, when the walking dog refuses to allow their mate freedom to leave the den, or occasionally by suicide. Some survive longer if they are willing to eat from the animal carcasses brought by the walking dog. Chances of rescue are slim - a walking dog is an enormous, erratic thing, born deadly and made only deadlier by what they view as 'defense' of their mate. They have been known to overcome bullet wounds and even seem impervious to the effects of silver during this state.

The moment comes when their mate perishes, and the walking dog experiences grief the likes of which most cannot imagine and will never experience. There are accounts of the walking dog carrying the corpse of their loved one until it rots, and it's said that the agonized screams can be heard for a distance of many miles.

Nobody truly knows what the love of a walking dog is like. No active den has ever been breached, and neither creature nor mate have ever survived to give an account. We have only the evidence of corpses.

Perhaps it's a fault in me as an aspiring scholar, but I like to put myself mentally in that place. In the arms of a walking dog. Having seen their faces up close, heard the softness of their voices, even inspected the claws of the enormous, bearlike hands, I wonder at what it would feel like to be locked in the dark with such a thing. I imagine that they croon to their loved one, that they keep them close and warm against the pale fur on their chests, and even that they lock or 'tie' like other canids.

Perhaps such musings are obscene, but I believe that the sooner this particular 'romance' is understand even through obscenity, the sooner a solution can be found.

So overall, I would give them a big fat 4 on my scale. Don't date. Don't copulate. Keep it platonic!

###### footnotes

[1] I introduced myself to Eusebius once during a seance, and the man blew out my astral pylons and gave me a nosebleed. Rude! He was touchy about the Revolution.

[2] Unlike greater werewolves, walking dogs have a static form, which does not fluctuate due to the phase of the moon. They are universally, constantly between 8 and 11 feet tall, dog-faced, furred, and full of teeth and claws. Their human traits allow them bipedal motion, speech, and opposable thumbs. Compared to the regular four-legged canids, they most closely resemble coyotes or feral pariah dogs, hence the name. In my opinion I find they most closely resemble the maned wolf... which is not a wolf at all! Phylogeny...

[3] How and why? It's hard to say. Perhaps it's a certain circumstance of moonlight. Further research is needed!


	2. the high mountain drake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 59
> 
> Creature: High mountain drake
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 2

I could write an entire book about fucking dragons alone.

Not only are there are a great many species, subspecies, varieties, and variants (attracting a kind of 'collect 'em all' sexual adventurous personality), there are as many different means of seduction as there are shapes, sizes, and colors.

Of course, the amateur 'monsterfucker' [1] doesn't generally think of a dragon as a viable prospect, either for romance or a one night stand. How could they be? They're reptilian, they're enormous, and all those teeth!

Admittedly, the teeth give even me pause.

But if you're taking your first tentative steps outside of the human dating pool, you can do worse than a mountain drake.

I once spent a very romantic summer on top of a small mountain in Qinghai. I came researching mandible dimensions, humbly taking survey of whichever drakes [2] allowed me to come toddling into their caves, staggering under the weight of my backpack full of many instruments and survival tools. No doubt most participated out of amusement. For those who were less interested, I came bearing gifts.

Mountain drakes have a very specific weakness for gold -- they love bells.

I brought necklaces of tiny tinkling bells to adorn their necks, larger bells to attach to their horns, and for one _very_ discerning mountain drake, hauled a bell nearly half the size of my body up the mountain in a wheelbarrow for her to mount at the front of her cave.

Well, one of the drakes seemed even more particular, sighing and ignoring all of my presents, until eventually i became familiar enough with draconic expression to realize he was being coy.

Well.

I was hesitant, but he already had the necessary carnal experience, and assuaged my concerns with more charm than I thought a cold-blooded creature could manifest.

At the risk of becoming very explicit about my personal sex life, I'll state a few objective facts.

The intromittent organ holds few surprises. When not in use, it lies concealed inside a vent in roughly the area you would expect, perhaps higher on the stomach than you might visualize. When in use, it becomes erect [3], and despite its size (quite large) the shape is streamlined enough to make penetration relatively uncomplicated.

Of course, I recommend lube. Nothing with spermicide, as drakes seem to have an adverse reaction, and it isn't necessary anyway. Unlike some creatures I'll cover later on, a drake cannot impregnate you.

I also recommend getting on top. You do _not_ want to end up underneath a large drake in the heat of the moment. Scale-burn is just as unpleasant as rug-burn, and a drake nearing climax may forget the size of their partner.

There _is_ a risk of crush, and a of internal injuries, but honestly, I consider these risks lesser to that of a vampire. A vampire can suck you dry in a matter of minutes without meaning to [4], while a drake is unlikely to kill you except in a freak accident or if they have ill intent.

Any human being can grab a hammer out from under the bed in the middle of sex and brain you with it, and sometimes ceilings collapse during sex between simple humans. Sex with a drake carries no greater risk as long as you are careful.

The only genuine risk is to your hearing.

They are vocal. I recommend earplugs.

###### footnotes

[1] I've been informed by my advisor that this is the popular vernacular. I wouldn't let it slip around the objects of your affection (or seduction); I suspect that a dragon, dark elf, or ogre would take just as kindly to the word 'monsterfucker' as a large human to the word 'chubbychaser'. Just the author's two cents!

[2] Always we come back to phylogeny... my absolute bane. For the sake of this text, we will use the word 'drake' to refer those six limbed creatures (four legs, two wings) which are too small to be considered proper dragons, but nevertheless breathe fire, fly, and for all intents and purposes _are_ dragons, evolutionary tree be damned.

[3] with blood or lymph. This is where I fail you, as a non-biologist.

[4] I cannot emphasize enough the need for a vampiric lover to feed _before_ sex, for the human partner to be clean of any cuts and not menstruating, and for that vampire to be at _least_ thirty years post transformation. It takes that long for them to achieve basic self control.


	3. the fallen angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 58
> 
> Creature: Fallen angel
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 5

‘Fallen angel’ is another one of those areas where phylogeny fails us — not because anyone has attempted an evolutionary tree, but because doing so is impossible. The classification of angels is known only to heavenly bodies. They may, in fact, not be classifiable at all.

For our purposes, there are only two kinds of angels: present-heavenly, and fallen.

It is the latter I intend to define for the purposes of my guide.

A fallen angel is the first 5 on my scale, meaning:

Don't date, don't copulate, and in fact, neither are possible! Attempted copulation will likely kill you on the spot. [1]

'But Eli,' you might ask. 'Why include creatures and beings on your list that there's no point in approaching? I already bought the roses.'

Well reader, I'll tell you.

Fallen angels are beautiful. Bewitching. Even seductive. The most desirable man, woman, or not-quite-either that you've ever seen.

Sometimes.

They also sometimes appear with eight heads, two dozen arms, pulsating black and golden auras and rattling chains as they chase you down an alleyway.

Reader, if you perked up at that second description, _you_ are the reason I include a 5 in my rating system.

There are only two ways to identify a fallen angel:

They have no eyes, and they have a remnant halo or 'aura'. The aura [2] may may be any color but white.

They retain eye _sockets_ (sometimes hundreds of them) but those sockets are dry and empty. It can be assumed that a freshly fallen angel may bleed from their sockets, but we have no way of knowing, as only a few falls have been recognized as such. Before the 1960s, angel-falls were regularly attributed to meteor strikes. None have been recorded. The crash sites give off intense radiation [3] and are unapproachable until long after the fallen angel has limped away.

By the time they make contact with a human being, their eye sockets are dry.

I've only met one person who survived a physical encounter with a fallen angel, and she lost her entire right arm in a handshake.

_This_ is what the 5 rating is for on my scale.

Maybe they're cute, but just because something has eight heads, two dozen arms, and a mysterious aura doesn't mean you should make the leap. Yes, even you experienced 'monsterfuckers'!

###### footnotes

[1] Yes, even if you use protection.

[2] Scholars generally agree that once an angel has fallen, the halo can no longer be called such.

[3] It's my personal suspicion that a fallen angel is not only totally physically sexually incompatible with a human being, but is _also_ highly radioactive, and any survived encounter would result in the same wounds one might incur from trying to make love to the elephant's foot at Chernobyl.


	4. spider grooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arachnophobes, skip this one!
> 
> -Eli
> 
> Days until Halloween: 57
> 
> Creature: Spider grooms
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 3

All relationships involve a cost benefit analysis. Every casual encounter requires the same weighing of pros and cons. Each night at the bar, exchanging glances with strangers, holds the same promise. And potential danger.

Pros, and cons.

I wouldn’t recommend you go to the bar looking for a good time without condoms in tow, and I wouldn’t recommend you go courting spiders without a sacrifice.

I can’t advise about romancing spider queens (not my cup of tea) but I can give you all the ammunition you need to spend the night with multiple spider grooms.

And you will want ‘multiple’ encounters.

The first thing you need is a meal (a cow is great) to distract the spider queen. If the meal is of a sufficient size, she’ll remain preoccupied for 10 to 12 hours.

The second thing you need is patience, quick hands, and a silver tongue.

Spider grooms wait in the wings of a female’s web until an opportunity arises. You’ll have to wait until one of them — typically the largest — seizes that opportunity.

While the other grooms are waiting for their chance, you’re the next best thing.

‘But Eli,’ you ask. ‘Why would you want to romance an arachnid anything?’

Reader, aside from the obvious desire to have carnal knowledge of the most terrifying creatures of the world, the primary benefit of amorous arachnid lies in their pedipalps.

A pedipalp is not a penis. It does not resemble any kind of mammalian sexual appendage. If the palpal bulbs (nearly the equivalent of the glans penis, residing at the end of the pedipalps) resemble anything, it is a pair of boxing gloves. Personally, I think the end of the pedipalps recalls a complicated and fleshy flower. Somewhat like an unfurling rose.

Reader, do not be deterred.

A spider ejaculates onto these pedipalps in order to insert sperm into the female. A stroke of evolutionary genius added an ingredient to the seminal fluid which renders the female more cooperative.

When this seminal fluid comes into contact with a human mucous membrane, it induces orgasms so lengthy and powerful, the experience is similar to injecting certain drugs.

I’ve never tried heroin, but I imagine the high comes close to the hours-long, throbbing orgasms once can receive at the hands [1] of a spider groom.

Of course, such an intense experience leaves one not just unwilling, but often _incapable_ of leaving the web. One can incur injuries from the powerful muscle contortions. Cramping is inevitable. [2]

This is why a partner is essential.

Having a man, woman, or other on the ground is necessary to escape the web. A partner can keep an eye on the spider bride (ensuring she stays focused on her meal and ignores the human preoccupying her would-be suitors), cut you down from the web, and cart you off when your legs no longer work.

The spider grooms fall on a high 3 on my scale. Romance is impossible (Spider grooms only see you as an alternative to their preferred mate, so don’t expect them to call you after.) but sex is 100% possible, and fantastic, _given the appropriate safety measures are taken._

###### footnotes

[1] And by hands, I mean pedipalps.

[2] Naproxen sodium, hot baths, and a massage scheduled for the following week help.


	5. the polar bear yeti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 56
> 
> Creature: Polar bear yeti
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 2

The name of the polar bear yeti suggests a hybridization that the eye would believe; this particular being looks almost exactly like what you would expect by mashing the two species together. Enormous. White furred. Tiny, beady black eyes.

So many teeth.

However, the name _actually_ refers to the diet of the polar bear yeti, which includes bears (any species within their range), leopard seals, wolves, and occasionally young killer whales.

Polar bear yetis have a cultural taboo against eating anything ‘that has not tasted blood.’

You would think that claiming you’re a vegetarian upon meeting an individual would keep you safe, however, a polar bear yeti could still easily tear you to shreds. They just wouldn’t eat you.

The key to sparking romance with a polar bear yeti is to catch them close before hibernation, when they’re fat and sedate from the summer feeding. Many young males fail miserably at mating with a female in the first years of their maturity, bested by aged alphas who often leave them marked by tooth and claw. If you catch them at a good time, you will _have_ a good time. [1]

Lube is your friend.

Polar bear yetis aren’t as monstrously endowed as their fearful appearance may suggest, and are _proportionately_ smaller under their thick fur than a human being, but proportions mean little when your lover weighs well over a thousand pounds [2] and can loop their thumb and index finger around your waist.

Polar bear yetis are terribly sweet. Despite the intimidating teeth, they make artful use of their mouths. During the cold nights of their preferred habitat range (largely within the Arctic Circle), it is _exceptionally_ satisfying to being able to nestle into a warm, furry chest, particularly when they’re soft with late-summer fat. They seem to enjoy taking gentle care of a human lover. Perhaps it’s because we make them feel as large and powerful as they are to us, or perhaps they’re simply enjoying a tenderness not typically allowed to them in those rough years before establishing a successful mating pattern.

I say ‘perhaps’ because the polar bear yeti is not an especially chatty companion. Exactly their feelings on the topic, I can’t say. Though they are perfectly capable of human speech [3] they typically avoid any topic more complicated than ‘do you want to get on top?’ or ‘the sunset is beautiful tonight’ and even then they are occasionally mum about the sunsets.

I got the distinct impression that they didn’t think human beings were great conversationalists, which is fair. I definitely wasn’t able to grasp the ins and outs of orca poetry or recognize the different styles of ‘tracks in snow’ [4] so I don’t blame the snow bear yetis for their one track minds.

This is the only reason I give them a 2 on my scale. They’re perfectly romanceable and great fun, but romance is unlikely to blossom. It’s also not very realistic given their extreme seasons. They spend nearly half the year sleeping, nearly half eating to prepare for sleep, and have only a very narrow window in late summer for romantic trysts.

###### footnotes

[1] You may notice that many of my romantic strategies for social creatures involve taking advantage of the absence of females, or failed attempts at intraspecies mating. It’s true that given their druthers, many a potential lover would prefer to pass on their genetic material. However, I make a point of never pursuing any being with less than human intelligence, and any reasonably intelligent being is able to make the best of a bad situation, and most are more than happy to (indelicately put) deposit said genetic material in any willing partner, no matter how unconventional.

[2] The largest known polar bear yeti reached 2300 lbs at peak pre-hibernation bulk.

[3] Heavily accented, but the accent is incredibly charming.

[4] ‘Tracks in snow’ is a literal translation of their primary art, which involves the replication of wolf paw prints and even full pack trails. I will not try to spell nor pronounce the actual name of this school of art; I once horribly embarrassed my yeti companion when he took me to an exhibition and I actually trod on some of the art with my snow shoes. I was beyond mortified. I once considered taking a full year to study ‘tracks in snow’, and am probably one of the few humans in the world who can write on the topic with any fluency or context, but doing so would probably involve crossing paths with P’asha again. Anyone with an ex can understand why I went into a different field of study.


	6. naga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 55
> 
> Creature: Naga
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 1

Reader, I have a fear of snakes.

When I was very young, I lived briefly in the Sandhills of Nebraska. Not being well acquainted with the nature of the area, I was warned about the rattlesnake and how to avoid it. I imagined that when I came across such a snake, I would simply turn and walk in the opposite direction of the rattling sound. However, when I did encounter a rattlesnake, I couldn't see the serpent, nor tell its direction. The sound of the rattle seemed to come from all around me.

I came home hours after dark, frightening and angering my parents, because it was only hours after the rattle ceased that I dared move at all from my spot on the prairie.

So! Not a snake person.

I'm not proud to admit that I assumed my fear would generalize to creatures like the naga (human from the belly up, serpent from the navel down), and I avoided them for many years. I was confronted on my bigotry when I ended up sharing an office with a naga while working at the university library.

She and I didn't strike up a romance (not my cup of tea), but when it came time to research nagas for my treatise, I didn't hesitate.

As it turns out, I should have! I was nearly strangled by a reticulated python in Laos. The serpent was quite long, and hidden under bushes. I thought that the other end would be humanoid. Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with an _actual_ python, and one of the biggest species in the world, longer (but not heavier) than the green anaconda! I probably should have retained my childlike fear after all.

But I survived to tell the tale, and more importantly, to spin that tale into pillow talk.

Nagas come in a great many shapes, sizes, and morphs.

I was fantastically lucky enough to make the acquaintance of a mated pair with open minds. One was lavender albino, patterned like a royal python, and the other had the deep, iridescent blacks of a sumatran short tail. They were well versed in BDSM practices [1] and _very_ interested in entertaining a human guest.

Anatomically, they're not complicated. They have a vent, located intuitively just below the juncture of human flesh and snake scales at the navel. A gentle massage of the vent (the cloacal opening for both sexes) will 'pop' the hemipenes out. Yes, there are two!

When manually stimulating a hemipenis, keep in mind that the structures, being largely internal, are much more fragile than external genitalia. Ask your partner how they prefer their hemipenes to be stimulated.

Penetration is intuitive. As a human with legs, you're definitely in a more advantageous position to 'hook on', but expect a fair amount of writhing as opposed to thrusting. Writhing is how nagas have gotten the job done for millennia.

I place the naga at a 1 on my scale, but with an acknowledgement.

Some species are more dangerous than others. I never dallied with a venomous naga, only constrictors, but even therein lies some risk of accidental strangulation. Communication is important, and having a healthy respect for the dangers at hand will help you as much with a naga as with any serpent.

There are also other, more specific naga type creatures which are most definitely a higher ranking, which I all address later!

###### footnotes

[1] Not usually my thing. I'm adventurous, but restraints make me claustrophobic.


	7. the don't-turn-around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 54
> 
> Creature: the don't-turn-around
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 4

Reader, I want to give you another example of a 4, to further explain why my scale extends beyond the 'fuckable' and serves also as a warning sign to the overly ambitious.

Remember:

A 4 on the scale means that you are physically _capable_ of having sex with this being, but doing so is almost inevitably _unsurvivable_.

The 'don't-turn-around' I encountered may be the only one of its kind in existence. it could also be an odd and very specific manifestation of another creature, perhaps a spirit. I have no desire to find out.

I only describe the creature as a warning to you all.

I lived in many places as a child, and one of them was a small town in the southwestern United States which I won't name. [1]

The 'don't-turn-around' lived in the woods there. I was taught the game of it by other children, who told me to go stand at the very edge of the trees and face away from them at sunset.

With my back to the inky darkness of the forest, I could only see the sky before me growing darker.

Finally, I heard the voice in my ear. Directly beside my ear. Preceded by nothing, not even footsteps or rustling branches.

_"Don't turn around."_

The voice was deep - animalistic but intelligent. It was the voice of something very large.

Whatever it was, it never harmed me or any of the other kids that played its game. The 'don't-turn-around' made conversation about school, about whatever we were learning. Occasionally it tickled us with what felt like the tips of long claws. While objectively terrifying, it was friendly.

Years later, when I was grown, I went back to that small town to satisfy my curiosity.

The town was much deteriorated, half of the houses and buildings lying empty. I didn't find any of my old friends and barely recognized the streets I'd once ridden my bike through.

On the most abandoned edge of town, I waited until sunset, took my clothes off, and stood naked with my back to the woods.

Sure enough, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, I suddenly heard the voice in my ear:

_"Don't turn around."_

This time, reader, we did not exchange small talk about homework.

I learned something more of the creature's shape, this time. I learned that it had a soft, clever tongue. That the once-tickling claws were attached to humanoid hands.

I learned other things.

I was still deep in the afterglow the next morning, when I pulled on my clothes and went into town to have breakfast in one of the few remaining open restaurants. I picked up a paper to read, skimmed to the obituaries out of morbid curiosity, and found nearly half my graduating class remembered there. It was the ten year anniversary of the day they all perished in a freak bridge collapse.

Every single dead face I recognized as someone who had played the 'don't-turn-around' game in those woods.

Reader, I packed up and got out of town without looking back.

I later learned that that diner burned down only hours after my exit.

Coincidence? Maybe.

The words 'ELI, COME BACK TO THE WOODS. CALL ME' found singed in the wreckage, carved deep into the wood as if by an enormous claw?

Probably less of a coincidence.

Reader, _sometimes_ a 4 is survivable, but _never_ bank on it. I still cringe every time I go over a bridge.

###### footnotes

[1] I don't name the town because I know some of you would immediately go looking. No sense of self preservation!


	8. your basic vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 53
> 
> Creature: your basic vampire
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 1-2

So here's my thing.

Personally, not a fan of vampires.

I wouldn't say that I _dislike_ them, but one does get frustrated browsing bookshelves looking for those steamy tomes about tooth and tentacled love and finding... nothing but vampires.

Bodice-ripping vampires.

Angst-ridden vampires.

Sometimes a werewolf, if you're lucky. But of course the steamy moments only occur when the individual is in their humanoid form.

Frankly, I find the general public view of vampires as potentially dangerous, possibly fetishizing and alienating to vampires themselves, _and_ incredibly boring.

Is it really that interesting if your romantic or sexual partner can kill you and drink your blood? People are murdered by their human partners every day. I don't find that particularly interesting or romantic.

And the immortality thing is... well. I don't consider someone especially 'immortal' if they can still perish due to sunlight, starvation, staking, holy water, the drinking of dead blood, et cetera. I would say vampires live a considerably different lifestyle and of course have a different biology, but I don't _personally_ classify them as 'monsters' in the sense that I'm interested in.

My _personal_ definition of a monster is a creature that requires genuine thought. 'Monsterfucking' should never be intuitive! A 'monster' should present a puzzle that is less of a problem and more a source of exciting questions: 'How am I going to bring this creature to orgasm?' 'What genitals does it possess?' 'Is penetration survivable?'

The only 'question' that arises when courting vampires is the inevitable 'So, are you going to turn me, or...?'

Yet the general populace considers vampires monsters, and so I'll give them a rating. [1] [2]

A mature vampire sits at a 1, barely worth mentioning.

However a newly-minted vampire (anything less than thirty years turned, I would say) is in fact very dangerous, landing it at a 2. A vampire takes several decades to learn proper control in the face of prey. For young vampires, the whole of humanity is one big candy shop, and they're a toddler with one of those long sticks that lets you grab things on high shelves. They have the ability to drain a potential lover to the point of death in only moments.

If you're courting vampires, I highly recommend garlic supplements, or the wearing of crosses under your clothes. Neither failsafe will harm the vampire, but garlicky blood _will_ send a vampire into a painful coughing fit that may last hours. Time enough for you to put some distance between you and your suitor before having a very frank conversation via phone.

Of course garlic will essentially 'toxify' every bodily fluid, from saliva to semen, for the vampire, so this failsafe won't help during sex. This is where basic trust comes into play.

And hopefully it goes without saying, _never_ experiment with blood play with a vampire partner, and if you menstruate, make sure to track your cycle and take those few days off!

###### footnotes

[1] Persephzoahdes IV, famed writer of _De Rerum Belua Amatoria_ , did _not_ include vampires in his text, although personal letters indicate that he encountered and even romanced vampires during his research.

[2] My friend and occasional research assistant, Toby, said (and I quote) 'Just because it doesn't provoke your broken flight or fuck response doesn't mean it isn't a monster' which I would like to address here because I know they'll read this during editing. Dear Toby: My 'flight or fuck' response is _not_ broken. The fact that my sympathetic nervous system is fully functional actually _contributes_ to my pursuit of unconventional sexual partners. It's called an adrenaline rush. Look it up, Toby.


	9. the sphinx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 51
> 
> Creature: the sphinx
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: a solid 3

Now that I've eased you all into the basics of my rating index, and given examples all up and down the scale, I want to get into the meat of what I'm sure you're looking for.

The threes.

A '3' on my scale is a creature which cannot be romanced, but _can_ be seduced... or succumbed to. At considerable risk.

The sphinx is one such creature, which I've only dared to approach once.

 _Most_ sphinxes are female (not my cup of tea) but male androsphinxes are essentially the same.

They range in size. Some are too gargantuan to mate with safely (unless you have access to certain magics) but others are just big enough to make the experience terrifying.

They almost universally combine the head of a human, a felid body, and the wings of an eagle. The type of felid varies - most are lions, but some are tigers, and others resemble leopards. The wings may or may not allow for flight; typically, a sphinx is stationary.

A sphinx is an _incredibly_ dangerous being - if you're attempting to access their treasure. For all sphinx guard treasure. Tombs. Temples. Artifacts. Hoards. They will invariably attack on sight, prompt you to answer a riddle, with every intention to rip you to pieces should you fail to answer.

 _However_ , a loophole exists. 

If you have no intention of claiming a sphinxes treasure, they aren't exactly obligated _not_ to kill you, but your presence may puzzle them enough to delay or prevent your mutilation and death.

I wouldn't bother with puzzle solving. The first time I visited a sphinx, I went prepared with nearly a year's worth of brain teasers, philosophical studies, and crossword puzzles under my belt, and ultimately, when I fell under those piercing golden eyes, my tongue froze in my mouth! All I could see were his shining teeth, and his wet red tongue.

The sphinx had never met anyone _bashful_ before, and I think the sheer novelty of my blush saved my life.

Being totally absent of guile is the best way to survive an encounter with a sphinx.

It may help to go on some blind dates as practice. It doesn't matter who (or what) you go on your date with, as long as you approach those dates with a local lack of expectation. Do _not_ expect your date to pay for the meal! You should exude generosity. Once you've trained your mental state to a place of 'I'm here for a good time! Who needs gold or forbidden treasure?' you'll be prepared to come face to face with a sphinx.

A sphinx is _still_ an incredibly dangerous being, and you should come prepared with a sword or gorgon head just in case. They will be especially prickly if they have recently faced the encroachment of treasure seekers, or on the other hand, especially eager to maim if they haven't seen visitors in a long time. Establish your own safety before making the move!

And when you do make a move, be honest. A sphinx can taste lies. If you tell them 'I think you have beautiful eyes' when you're drooling over the fangs, they'll know.


	10. safer sex: oviposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 50
> 
> Safer sex topic: oviposition

I'm breaking up regular chapters to include some supplementary material. While descriptions of specific monsters and advice for romancing and coupling with them is my immediate goal, my overall goal in this field of study is _harm reduction_.

'Safe, Sane, and Consensual' is rendered instantaneously moot when dealing with monsters. There is nothing 'safe' about penetrative sex with a reptile thousands of pounds heavier than you, or being fisted by spider grooms. However, 'Risk-Aware and Consensual' is more than an achievable goal... it is the bare minimum necessary when romancing the subjects of this treatise. [1]

I could write at length about consent when 'monsterfucking' but for the time being let's focus on risk-awareness, and safe sex.

Specifically, let's talk about oviposition.

Oviposition is a very straightforward word, brought to us by the Latin _'ovum'_ (egg) and _'positio'_ (putting, or placing).

It is a little less straightforward in practice. The vast majority of creatures who lay eggs do so into nests, or burrows. Some parasitic creatures lay eggs into a host's body, which is where the erotic context usually comes into play, _however_ in species where this depositing into another being occurs naturally, it is not sexual, and typically results in the maiming and eventual devouring-by-young of the host. [2]

Historically, many creatures have used human beings as hosts in nightmarish scenarios resembling that of Ridley Scott's eponymous Alien.

This has led to a heavy weight of stigma around consensual oviposition as well as an unhealthy level of fetishizing.

My intent is both to dispel the stigma _and_ the exotic fixations.

There are a few ways to ensure that oviposition is performed safely.

First and foremost, establish consent. Secondly, I always recommend an STI/STD screening before engaging with a new partner, but here I find it particularly important. It is _very_ easy to transmit something unpleasant via oviposition.

When the time comes for the act itself, you have many options beyond the obvious. 'Simulated' oviposition can be just as gratifying, and may be the only possible safe option depending on the species involved. Simulated oviposition may involve a sleeve (artificial vaginas used to collect semen from animals are a good option and there are a range of sizes available) or simply an embrace where the eggs are laid externally, possibly between the legs but not in an orifice. Intercrural oviposition is still very pleasurable. Another option is to acquire a sex doll. When you're getting hot and heavy with your monstrous partner, and the time comes for them to lay, simply substitute the doll. It can be an incredibly intimate experience to _aid_ your partner in laying, even if you aren't the recipient.

Penetrative oviposition (anal or vaginal) can be made much safer with basic condom usage. Female condoms are my go-to for oviposition. Despite the name, female condoms can be used vaginally or anally. Female condoms form a useful pouch, enabling the eggs to be laid and collected safely afterwards.

Unprotected oviposition is inherently one of the most dangerous forms of monstrous sex. Not only are you risking immediate injury to your own body (if you are the one being penetrated), you are also risking the implantation of eggs _which may not be viable_.

Yes, it is very romantic to think about carrying and hatching your partner's eggs inside of you, and giving birth to their young, _but_ remember that incompatible biology is a fundamental aspect of monsterfucking. It's what makes for the fun challenge, but it means that chances of successfully carrying eggs 'to term' are next to nil. If you're really sold on the idea, consult a doctor.

###### footnotes

[1] 'Risk-aware and consensual' is a term borrowed from the kink community. I'm by no means a 'kinkster' and not well versed in the vocabulary, so my apologies to the community if I misuse it!

[2] The Ichneumonids are a parasitoid wasp family known for their use of hosts to hatch young. The Ichneumonids so disturbed 19th century scholars, Darwin among them, that it actually led some to doubt the existence of a loving God! Personally, I don't see the horror of it. Looking from the point of view of the wasp, leaving their young to hatch and feed within living caterpillars had no downside. Perhaps there is a loving God, but he only loves wasps.


	11. a fairy fling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 49
> 
> Creature: the fae
> 
> Eli Pluribus fuckability index rating: 3

There are very few ways to carouse with the fae and not lose something invaluable — your name, your will, your windmill. The fairies I have encountered enjoy a good time, but invariably take ‘souvenirs.’ You’ll be lucky if you get out with your wallet.

It’s best to approach a fairy as naked as possible. If there is a shirt on your back, they will try to take it. It’s a matter of principle.

Never go with a fairy to a second location.

Plan your encounters the usual way: Tinder. ChaRm. You’re not likely to find a fairy on Bughunt but it’s worth a glance.

Pick a hotel. Most bloggers or article writers will recommend a busy hotel in a heavily populated part of town under the belief that a fairy will hesitate to use its power in public.

Honestly, I have tried it both ways, lowkey and bustling, and I haven’t seen that either option puts a significant damper on fae nonsense. My last fairy fling seemed to delight in a public exhibition of his power.

Make reservations in advance. Come in sweats and a t-shirt, and call an Uber instead of using your own transportation (especially if you like your car). I don’t recommend bringing any actual ID if you can avoid it. Photocopies and temp IDs should be fine, depending on the hotel and means of reservation. If you must bring tangible ID, put in a request for replacements in advance. Bring no more than $67 [1] in cash, and write a friend’s phone number on your arm in sharpie. [2]

Safe sex and protection use is especially vital with the fae. Avoid swapping any bodily fluids at all; ‘exchanges’ of semen or saliva have been historically deemed valid. A good friend of mine had to spend two years working on a fairy farm after they ‘swapped spit.’

All of that aside, make sure to enjoy yourself!

Rating: low 3. Not suited for relationships, but fine for one night.

###### footnotes

[1] 67 is the number I’ve found fairies almost universally won’t touch. I can’t blame them, it’s really a hideous and indivisible thing.

[2] After one particularly memorable fae encounter, I woke up on the side of a road I didn’t recognize. I walked to the nearest gas station and found I had been transported from Boston to Icheon, South Korea. My editor, Toby, arranged for my flight back home. Thanks, Toby!


	12. the colossal vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 47
> 
> Creature: the colossal vampire
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: 3

I've spoken briefly about your average, run of the mill vampires, and now I want to address the fact that there is diversity in the sphere of 'vampire' that I previously failed to acknowledge.

While I place ordinary vampires at a 1 or a 2 on my scale, there are exceptions within the breed.

'Colossal vampires' or sometimes 'stone' or 'fossilized vampires' probably have an underlying condition contracted before or after their initial transformation. It's hard to make broad statements about colossal vampires because there are so few of them; I know of only seven, and have only known one intimately. He was very young for being what he was, only seven hundred years old, and only beginning to show signs of the condition in the last hundred.

Colossal vampires appear to age. They don't show their age in wrinkles, gray hair, or dementia. Instead, they continue to grow.

The first colossus I met was thirty-three feet tall. Going by the name 'Abdul' and nothing more, he could not tell me where he was born, in what year, or how he came to be. The events of history had passed around him. I suspect he predated the extinction of megafauna throughout America and Eurasia, as he told me a mammoth hunting story that seemed too personally riveting to be fiction.

Colossal vampires do not resemble humans as much as they resemble skeletons. Their muscles and tendons shrink to the point of being little more than a system of ropes and pulleys holding bones together. Their skin shrinks to coat the bones and hug the organs. Most of the taller, older individuals have given up on clothes entirely. Once you're over fifteen feet tall, anything more than a swathe of cloth to cover the genitals seems purposeless. Over fifteen feet, and even covering the genitals loses meaning.

Strangely enough, they do not seem to require blood to live. I believe that is the reason for their emaciated appearance; once they grow large enough, normal prey isn't enough to satisfy them, so they simply cease feeding. I once witnessed Abdul drain an entire elephant. He seemed satisfied, but acknowledged that this kind of feeding isn't sustainable.

The result of this starvation is a general slowing of the mind and body. Colossal vampires sit alone in dark places, sometimes secreted in mountains or buried alive in enormous tombs. They can survive so for thousands of years.

The colossal vampire I knew intimately had only recently become aware of his condition. It disturbed him a great deal; he drew comparisons between certain degenerative human diseases, like Huntington's or Encephalitis lethargica.

I mention these colossal vampires to make a point about diversity in a complicated sphere of nonhuman interactions, and to give an example of a 3 on my scale whose high rating is not due to the inherent danger of the creature. There are things more frightening than large teeth and bloodlust.


	13. firefly-eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 46
> 
> Creature: firefly-eyes
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: 3

The firefly-eyes is another creature 'discovered' by Eusebius Owen [1] in his travels through South Carolina. It is a being that only appears in what he described as 'muggy places' which, according to his description, don't seem to have changed much since 1776.

In mid to late September in the Deep South, when temperatures first start to dip into more human-comfortable levels and night begins to descend around seven or six thirty, a pretender appears.

The firefly-eyes is not creatively named. [2]

The creature has as many eyes as a swarm of fireflies has individual insects, all blinking open and shut at different times. In the dark of a South Carolinian night, it's impossible to discern the presence of a being.

However, you will feel it.

The firefly-eyes touches people in the dark. Sometimes it's only the smallest brush of fingers on the back of a hand, or a tap on the shoulder. A shy being, it scurries away into the deeper shadows at any loud noise or human exclamation. Only by speaking softly and sitting patiently in the dark can you drawn them to you.

More than most creatures I describe, the firefly-eyes must be _courted_. If you realize you're in the presence of one, you can leave small presents out, like a glass of honey or simple lemon cookies. You'll know that the firefly-eyes has received them by their strange, characteristic odor: sweet, ashy, and _potent_ , like a cigar.

After successfully courting the firefly-eyes, the actual sex is straightforward. I suspect that they possess some manner of shapeshifting ability, for the body felt in the dark is always different, but always what I desired. Sometimes toothy. Sometimes tentacled. Sometimes just... strange.

There is only one major warning that comes with the firefly-eyes.

Do _not_ turn on the lights.

###### footnotes

[1] 'Discovered' in the sense that it had never been described by a white man. Similar creatures had been described in the folklore of indigenous peoples for hundreds of years before Eusebius first put pen to paper.

[2] Thanks Eusebius.


	14. Fell thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 45
> 
> Creature: Fell thing
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: 1

Fell things are usually mistaken for a branch of the fae, and the two have a lot in common, but ultimately the Fell are their own breed. When drawing distinctions between them and the fairy folk, I usually fall back on the classic Lord of the Rings quote: 'I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler.'

The fae look fair and feel foul.

The Fell look like the lovechild of a gremlin and an Instagram beauty blogger, are voracious eaters of anything sugary, and they purr like motorbikes when they're pleased.

Big eyes, long eyelashes, needle teeth, sharp claws. Some have short horns, but the horns are almost always covered by adventurous hairstyles. The Fell seem to have latched on to the 80s and the hair shows it. [1]

Fell things are easily comparable to cats. Like cats, they are very particular about how they are approached, treated, and touched. They may not adhere to common procedures of greeting, but they will read and react instantly to the intention behind your actions. They read the human heart for fun, like skimming a magazine article while standing in line. Their powers of perception will make you resentful, but come in handy when you forget your phone or lose your car keys. The Fell never loses track of themselves, their items, you, your items, the weather, the local apartment listings, the price of deer corn, the number of crows in a field, and whatever the hell else strikes their fancy.

They are short. I've never met one who came near six foot. Most fall between 4'8" and 5'6". Their proportions (not always lithe - some are adorably chunky - but with a specific illusory length of limb) often make them look 'normal' until you stand them next to a person.

Most Fell things I met prefer to top.

I classify the Fell as a 1 on my scale because, despite their exceptional magical ability, they possess another exceptional ability - the ability to keep their power in their pocket and lead an average existence.

Fell things adore domesticity. They crave a clean hearth, a fire to curl up in front of. They knit manically. They _live_ for fall, the time of year when changing temperatures send them into a flurry of larder-stocking, which typically manifests as last minute acorn harvesting, but can also mean your Fell boyfriend buying out the entire aisle of grape jelly at the nearest Kroger.

This is less amusing when he uses your card, because his declined after buying a round for the whole bar the night before (and another round.... and another...) but such is life when you date one of the Fell. When your boyfriend has the ability to cause hurricanes, but calls multiple Ubers to cart home eight months' worth of grape jelly, you can only sigh, and put in an order for an equivalent amount of peanut butter.

###### footnotes

[1] My friend and editor, Toby, is actually doing their thesis on Fell attachment to 80s style and nostalgia. Privately I think it's just an excuse to loop Cyndi Lauper and rewatch _The Lost Boys_ over and over again when they should be editing.


	15. eli recommends: dating apps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 44
> 
> Eli recommends: dating apps

Dating apps, rated. Your mileage may vary!

Grindr: 3 out of 5 stars. Somewhat shady, but straightforward. Carefully vet your prospective partners. It's up to you to keep yourself safe. Users can only choose from dropdown categories (such as 'werewolf' or 'ogre') which can be frustrating when there isn't a category that is an accurate descriptor.

Tinder: 2 out of 5 stars. Not truly monster inclusive, only supports humanoid usage. Some controversies over language and treatment of particularly marginalized user groups. Chaotically groups all nonhuman creatures into one category as an option alongside seeking men or women. You're left to read profiles and look at pictures, which is generally fine for people, but frustrating beyond that. You have no way of, for example, seeking out water beings specifically, or of excluding water beings (if you can't swim). You're stuck leaving your preferences in your profile description and endlessly swiping left in hopes of a pleasant surprise. Chances of meeting someone (or something) are mostly up to chance.

Charm: 3 out of 5 stars. A cutesy app designed specifically for humans to meet various other creatures, there aren't many features and it's not widely used, but it is a decent first step if you want to dip your toe in the water before taking a plunge.

Bughunt: 4 out of 5 stars. A 'buggy' app in more way than one, the user interface can be frustrating, but ultimately this is THE app for 'monsterfuckers' looking for new partners. Instead of providing dropdown fields, each user can provide their own self descriptors, while adding commonly used 'tags' such as 'bipedal' or 'magic-user' or 'lunar cycle'. This allows users to sort through prospective partners according to tags (or exclude) in order to find their best prospect. The blocking or 'hiding' system is one major pro of this app; if you want to make yourself invisible to an ex, or ghost someone making you uncomfortable, doing so is easy.

Coating yourself in pheromone and walking into a festering wood: 2 out of 5 stars. Only for the truly adventurous.


	16. pseudodemonic spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 42
> 
> Creature: pseudodemonic spirits 
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: 2

Pseudodemonic spirits are those spirits stuck between the mortal and unknown planes of existence, in various stages of what is commonly referred to as ‘soul decomposition.’

I find soul decomp an unsatisfactory umbrella term for the exceptional variation in the not-wholly-dead.

My theory is that it has to do with a fragmenting of the human being post mortem. Given certain manners of death, a soul may depart suddenly, in one piece, or may slowly bubble out over the course of days. The end result isn’t necessarily a soul which isn’t more or less ‘decomposed,’ just in an unexpected form.

A ‘pseudodemonic’ soul I believe is the result of these specific set of circumstances: a soul retains much of the mind (approximately 60%), and most of the heart (I would guess around 80%). This enables the spirit to retain its sense of self, its most pertinent life memories, and its intrinsic motivations. However, the soul is still fragmented, and cannot pass on. What remains, and what lingers, is something with enough sense of self to resent its position and to seek power.

They are not demons.

But they are nothing approaching angelic.

While I was studying a cathedral site in the Loire Valley, I found my footsteps being haunted by ghostly whispers and often felt cold breath on my neck.

When I conducted my séance, the thing that arrived bewildered me with black smoke, peeled my clothes off, and covered me with the prints of its icy lips.

The thing took a nearly physical form come morning — a truly frightening thing! Ice blue skin, eyes inky black throughout not just the pupil but the iris and sclera as well, and a red mouth with yellow fangs.

His name was Maetycerp, and he told some confused tale of having once been part of a revolution, and of losing his true love on the battlefield. Parts of his story seemed Napoleonic, others almost Roman. His name certainly didn’t evoke any period of history I’m acquainted with.

He told me wistfully that I resembled his late, long lost love, which I found incredibly uncomfortable pillow talk but thought was probably the reason I had been taken to bed and not killed outright.

In the discussion that followed, I asked him if he often took mortal lovers.

The answer was no, that I was the exception and that he intended to dress me in red and marry me at the juncture of the next new moon, so our souls could be bound and either ascend to hell or descend to heaven — whichever fate decided for us.

Well that was awkward, because I was leaving that study at the end of the week after having bickered with the cathedral caretaker, who was angry at me for spilling the chicken blood I used in my séance.

I spent a few more nights teaching Maetycerp some positions and acts that probably weren’t commonplace in whatever age he originated from.

I did feel bad about sneaking out before the new moon, and I still wonder sometimes if I AM that ghoulish creature’s long lost love reincarnated into the body of a largely boorish academic.

Maybe one day I’ll return, when I’m old and gray, to see if Maetycerp still wants to tie the knot. Maybe by then I’ll be ready to settle down.

As a one-off thing, a fling with a psuedodemonic spirit can be fun. Just make sure you’re gone before the new moon!

Ranking: 2


	17. sleep paralysis demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 40
> 
> Creature: sleep paralysis demon aka 'temporarily organized terror-figments'
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: 2

'Sleep paralysis demon' is really a misnomer, as the beings that torment sleepers in the grip of sleep paralysis are not true demons.

They are what Dr. Elle Lefaine-Witz of the University of Nebraska Lincoln calls 'temporarily organized terror-figments.'

A figment is a hunk of spiritual energy (the residue of something which has died) that takes the form of an apparition. A 'terror-figment' is only a figment whose appearance is frightening to the viewer. An _organized_ terror-figment is something which retains enough being-emulating structure that it can appear to act on a person.

A sleep paralysis demon only exists for as long as you're sleeping, paralyzed, and terrified. So there's no reason to be truly afraid. And you may as well enjoy yourself!

A 2 not because the spirit is dangerous, but because it's impossible to maintain a relationship with one. As soon as you regain freedom of movement, the spirit will dissipate.

If you are trying to _avoid_ sleep paralysis, I recommend sleeping on your stomach. Most sleep paralysis occurs when laying on your back. When you're paralyzed, instead of trying to struggle free with your entire body, wiggle your toes or fingers instead.


	18. the thing that keeps pace with your car at night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 39
> 
> Creature: the thing that keeps pace with your car at night
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: ?

Reader, I'm sure that in whatever pursuits of life you enjoy, you have a white whale. Perhaps it's a specific orchid you can't coax into flower. Perhaps it's an exceptionally rare coin that you seem to keep missing on eBay.

My white whale is the thing that keeps pace with your car at night.

It comes in two forms: Either it appears in the shape of an animal, with human eyes, or the shape of a human, with animal eyes.

Regardless of apparent species (wolf, deer, cougar, ram) it walks on its hind legs.

Well. It runs.

It appears when you're driving late at night, usually in the spring or summer on the deserts of the American southwest. It only appears if you're driving alone or with a sleeping partner in the passenger seat. [1]

No matter what speed you drive, the thing matches.

You may see it at first when you come to a stop, either at a desolate gas station in the middle of sweet-smelling nowhere, or at a light in a shred of a ghost town. It may appear as a pair of eyes gleaming out of the dark. Of course, this is nothing ominous when you're used to driving at night. You often see animals' eyes out there in the dark.

However, the eyes follow.

As soon as you clear the town, or the gas station, and leave humanity in your rearview, the thing breaks from the shadows and chases your car.

Of course, the first time this happened to me, I was terrified. I put my foot on the gas and drove like a madman.

The thing kept pace with my window, smiling at me with more teeth than seemed possible to fit in a humanoid creature's mouth.

I burnt rubber into the nearest tiny town, tires squealing, heart pounding. The thing was gone before I passed into the lights of a late night food mart. I sat and recovered for several hours. I didn't start out again until morning.

Of course, years later, when I returned to that dessert, I was a different man.

When the thing began to follow my car, I slowed to a tranquil speed and rolled down my window.

I said "Hello!" in what I thought was a winning voice.

The thing keeping pace with my car did a double take. It slowed to a jog, stared at me, then came to a stop as I did.

And then it actually backed away into the ditch and disappeared!

This happened the next _seven_ times I encountered the thing.

So I have no rating, no wisdom, only a frustrating question mark and a blank in my own sexual history.

If the thing didn't want to catch me, why did it put so much effort into the chase?

Maybe some things we just aren't meant to know.

###### footnotes

[1] Toby still insists I saw a coyote with mange.


	19. editor's note: hello, it's toby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 24
> 
> Idiot: Eli
> 
> Mistake: a ten hour session with a minotaur

Hello, it's Toby! I'm Eli's friend and editor, who you may recognize from the footnotes, or may not. My work is largely one of absences; if you don't remember a typo Eli made, it's because I fixed it. You're welcome, Eli! You're welcome, reader!

Eli can't come to the computer today because he's nursing a 104.5 degree fever. No, he does not have the flu. No, he does not have the coronavirus. And no, he doesn't have mono. I know, I was surprised too.

Fun fact: 'monsterfucking' carries not just all the extra risks to life and limb, but the usual risks associated with vanilla human-on-human sex, as well! So great. This mean yes, STDs. Yes, STIs. A slightly lessened chance of pregnancy.... and a slightly increased chance of pregnancy.

And UTIs.

Guess who can not only name but rank (in order of sexual performance) the forty-one types of lesser werewolf, but can't recognize the signs of a UTI until their editor finds them wearing three coats in a well-heated library and drags them to an urgent care?

That's right.

It's your good friend Eli.

Fortunately [1] Eli is being treated with antibiotics and will be back at it no doubt far before a doctor's approval, so you can count on future chapters soon. Oh boy!

Meanwhile, Eli left me a handful of fever-addled notes on multi-colored post-its, which I will attempt to assemble for your enjoyment.

Post-it one (orange) reads:

_Vir = man = Virwolf. Vir/Viral, man = virus? Man as a self sustained auto-correcting [sic] ecosystem... self love. Mass love = masturbation?_

Enlightening! Post-it two (pink) reads:

_pls text Minksoo. tell him I said_

The rest is blank. However, post-it three (also pink) reads:

_Minksoo guest chapter? excuse for coffee? discuss Fell cultural conventions as regards peanut butter. almond butter. misc nut butters. apologize for kroger fight. it was my fault_

Minksoo, if you're reading, I think he's hurting for a second chance.

Post-it four (this one is green) reads:

_meet the god of the burning peach trees at the axis of edisto. bring protection. why do ants suffer. is there cashew butter? is that a thing?_

And the rest of the post-its are just an assortment of drawings of penises. I can't tell you how anatomically correct they are, I have no idea what species he had in mind when drawing them.

I hope this update satisfies! It was very important to the semi-delirious Eli that his readers not be left 'hurting for content.'

If you have any questions you would like me to pass on to Eli, or requests for material to cover upon his return (or questions for me to answer while he recovers), I will collect and pass them on to Eli along with the box of fudgesicles he has been begging for. Thank you!

###### foonotes

[1] Unfortunately.


	20. editor's note: toby takes your questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 22

Hello, it's Toby again! Eli is very much out of the woods (and thanks you for your well wishes) but not quite to the point of being able to update directly. [1] Thus I've returned to answer your questions. And here they are.

BobTheSkrull asks:

_Would you rate Mimics a 3, 4, or something else entirely? I'd assume it's variable based on the size and breed (a hermit crab-esque mimic that has taken residence in your shoe is likely less of a threat than the mimic that's disguised itself as the room you're reading this in), but there could be more aspects I'm unaware of._

I'll summarize Eli's answer, given in bits and pieces between sips of hot chocolate.

He says that you're right that it's variable, BobTheSkrull. However, while there are two main obstacles to romancing a mimic, ultimately they have less to do with the threat level of the encounter, and more to do with basic compatibility.

With few exceptions, mimics do not reproduce sexually. They are often created as aftereffects of magical happenings. So a situation where a mimic would be open to seduction is a rare one.

The second obstacle is what what you've let on, BobTheSkrull, and that's the wide range of sizes and shapes. It's hard to have sex with something significantly larger or smaller for you. Given that mimics aren't uniform, a 'plan of attack' is hard to come by.

Cherish asks:

_what made eli decide to branch out to monsterfucking in the first place? like what monster did he see and suddenly decide "okay yea i'd let that top me"_

Which is a _fantastic_ question.

As I type this, Eli is making up a grand story about how his first field of study (archaiography) led him to a temple where he encountered a bewitching spirit with fifty different forms and he achieved partial enlightenment in its arms.

However _I_ will tell you that the truth is that when Eli was about ten, he got a kiss on the cheek from a merchild living in the pond next door, and it's all been downhill since then. I heard the story from his mom. That once-merchild, now-merman is now a guns-blazing libertarian so Eli likes to pretend his first kiss doesn't exist.

Anyway! My patience wanes and it's Eli's naptime. Thank you for the questions and the well wishes! Eli promises 'fun stuff ahead.' Truly alarming!

###### footnotes

[1] i.e. He is milking it.


	21. doppelganger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days until Halloween: 19
> 
> Creature: doppelganger
> 
> Eli Pluribus Fuckability Index Rating: 3

Readers, I had quite the experience in the hospital.

I ended up staying overnight. I'm told I was quite delirious, talking about a 'man with the same face' walking the hallways.

While I was certainly delirious about some things (it turned out the pudding was not, in fact, made out of mud), I was _not_ hallucinating the man with my face, and I have the hickeys to prove it.

I'll share this with you unedited, because I don't want Toby to read it.

At night, after visiting hours, the hospital is dim and peaceful. I don't know what it is about a hospital blanket. They _should_ be disgusting - think of how much other people have used it - but instead there's something comforting about the knowledge that it is as disinfected as all get-out.

I was drifting off, listening to the distant sounds of the nurses, when I felt a presence in the room.

I'm a bit of a connoisseur of 'presences in the room' so I immediately identified it as neither good nor bad, neither human nor especially inhuman, which was perplexing.

It was neutral.

When the source of the presence emerged from the shadows, I saw immediately why it felt so 'neutral' to me:

It _was_ me!

Of course a feeling of terrible dread came over me then; I knew the stories of the doppelganger, and the true dangers of it. But I was also elated! This was a being I had heard of innumerable times, but never been able to come face to face with.

I'm still not sure what summoned it. Perhaps it thought I was near death, and hoped to take my place?

For that is what doppelgangers are best known for. They don't often actively kill their double; they only wait for that other face to slip away, and then remove the body and silently take over that life.

Some, however, do actively kill their double.

Needless to say, I was frightened, but... my doppelganger had not come to claim my life.

I won't go into detail about what the doppelganger _came for_ , but I will confirm that yes, it achieved its goal and got what it was looking for.

And I got - well, not what I was looking for, but an interesting experience to be sure!


End file.
